


A Cup of Tea on an Autumn Afternoon

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 11:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16449341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: Yuuri's not your stereotypical witch. He's happy running his tea shop and minding his own business. Until Victor Nikiforov walks in one day, that is.





	A Cup of Tea on an Autumn Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for YOI Spooky Week 2018. Day Two: Witches/Warlocks

Yuuri's shop was always busier in autumn.   
  
His premises were small, only large enough for a private storeroom-slash-workroom and one public room. The public room held an old-fashioned wooden counter, the kind found in fancy apothecaries. Opposite the counter was floor-to-ceiling glass, which made it light and airy, and contrasted with the shelving behind the counter, which held a rainbow of multicoloured tins.   
  
He saw a good level of custom year-round, but there was a noticeable peak in autumn. That day was one such day; there was barely a minute where there were not multiple customers hovering in front of the counter.   
  
Mainly, he sold tea.   
  
He didn't grow the tea himself, or anything like that, but he concocted tea-based mixtures that all had various purposes. For example, his best-selling product was 'CALMNESS', followed by 'INSOMNIA' and 'ACHES'. Sometimes, for customers with more specific needs, he'd customise a brew.   
  
Occasionally, just by the whims of fate, he'd end up giving life advice or make an attempt at scrying. But, mostly, he stuck to tea.   
  
He found tea quite interesting, really, and often spent nights muttering charms over the herbs and spices that he was chopping or grinding. If they knew about his methods, most people would call him a witch. In truth, he’d never really been into most things that people would expect from a witch or anyone of that inclination: predicting the future had always been beyond him, illusions had never interested him, he’d never had a notable connection to the spiritual realm. But he liked his tea, something that his parents had introduced him to at an early age.   
  
At that particular moment, he was talking to a woman who was suffering from an insane level of stress at work. She seemed fraught, constantly fidgeting and glancing at her watch. He felt a degree of sympathy —  it was clear that she loved her work, but it was also taking a visible toll. He promised to put something together for her — destressing, stomach-settling, muscle-easing — and gently suggested that she saw a doctor if her symptoms continued. He was always firm on that. He wasn’t medically qualified and didn’t pretend to be.

While they were conversing, a bell tinkled, marking the entrance of another customer. Yuuri’s brain faintly acknowledged the sound, but paid it no mind. The man walked in and lent on the other end of the counter, waiting.

Yuuri stayed focused on the woman. They exchanged a few more sentences before she thanked him and left. He busied himself by sketching out his plans for her tea, spending a good few minutes wondering if he was putting too many ingredients in it.

The man was still there. Yuuri felt like he was being observed, but he couldn’t summon a shred of concern over it, nor did it cross his mind to speak to him.

This continued for about a quarter of an hour.   
  
"Excuse me," the man said. Quite suddenly, Yuuri could finally see him. It wasn't that he'd been invisible before, more that eyes had been more inclined to skip over him and forget him instead of properly noticing him. And he really was quite a noticeable man: his hair was a shade too silvery to be entirely natural and his eyes were an indescribable shade of turquoise. "I'm Victor."   
  
"Hi," Yuuri replied. "I'm Yuuri. What can I do to help you?"

“I’ve had this cold for weeks,” Victor answered, not without a touch of melodrama. Now that Yuuri looked, his nose was definitely pinker than this rest of his face. “It’s miserable. I can’t seem to shake it.”

“Have you been to see a doctor? I’m not a medical professional, so if you’re sick you need to see someone-”

“Yeah, I saw my doctor last week. Says there’s nothing wrong with me.” Victor rolled his eyes. “They even did X-rays.”

“Okay, that’s fine, then.” Yuuri turned, hands on hips, to scrutinise his shelves of teas. “I’ve got one for headaches, if that’s an issue, or just a standard one for colds.”

“Just the standard one, I think,” replied Victor, temporarily reduced to a disembodied voice floating from somewhere behind him.

Yuuri picked up a lime green tin. “This is the one,” he said as he turned back to face him. “I’ll get you a packet from the storeroom.”

The man had something in his eyes that made Yuuri want to talk to him more. It took all of his courage and a brief moment of madness to speak. “I can brew you a cup now, if you’d like, to see if it helps you,” Yuuri said, a little embarrassed. “I mean, if you’re in a rush-”

“No,” Victor interrupted. “I’d like that.”

There was a small set of table and chairs on the shop side of the counter, where Victor sat himself. Yuuri, meanwhile, made two cups of tea: one standard black tea, one a specialty blend. He used his china cups, too, rather than his standard ceramic ones. Because he could. And because anything less than that would seem unwieldy in Victor’s hands.

_ God. When did I notice his hands, of all things? _

With an abrupt shake of his head, he banished such thoughts from his mind. He made his way over to the table, setting the cups down on the table, and taking the seat opposite Victor.

“So…” Yuuri searched for some way to make conversation, eyes wandering about the room. His interlocutor was not helping: in fact, he seemed faintly amused, though not in a mean way. “I - um - well, where are you from? What do you do?”

“I’m a perfumer. Well, no,” he corrected himself. “My family are perfumers. I make glamours.”

Yuuri turned sharply. “Glamours?”

_ Glamours. Magic. One of us. _

Victor held his gaze with a strength that was at odds with his light tone. “House of Nikiforov. Boutique purveyors of perfumes and glamours. According to the sign above the door, at least.”

To most people, House of Nikiforov was just a quaint, quiet shop on busy road, with its wooden façade and gold, hand-lettered signage. It certainly evoke images of times gone by, but it was still a thriving business, for those in the know. Their perfumes were tailored to each customer —  an expensive service generally reserved for the über rich with taste. Their glamours were equally popular, with a different type of person — those with more magical inclinations.

More importantly, its name was known by every magical person on the planet. The Nikiforovs kept themselves out of the limelight, but they were wealthy and had a lot of clout in the magical community.

Yuuri slapped his forehead. “Of course! I should have known.”

Victor shook his head. “There’s no reason for you to.”

_ Play it cool, Yuuri. Don’t go over the top, don’t be weird. _

“You’re in the Directory, if nothing else.”

The Directory was a document, compiled and distributed annually; it the closest thing in existence to a register of the magical community. The House of Nikiforov was on it, of course, as was Victor himself. But the shop was in St. Petersburg.

“To be fair,” Victor said, as if reading his mind. “The Directory says I live in Russia. Which I do, technically, but I’ve been spending a lot of time overseas in the past few years.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked before he could contemplate whether or not he’d come across as rude.

Happily, Victor wasn’t offended by his question. “We have many international customers, especially in America. Most of my family hates travelling, so I’m the one that visits and tries to maintain relationships.”

Victor took a sip of tea, perhaps to pace the conversation, and Yuuri mirrored him.

“What about you? I’ve heard of the Katsuki family, obviously, but…”

“Well, we’re from Japan,” Yuuri told him, even as he internally berated himself for stating the obvious. “I moved over here when I was in my late teens — I needed some space from my family. Then I found that I really liked it and I opened the shop.”

“Well, you come highly recommended.”

“Really? Who?”

“Lilia Baranovskaya.”

That shocked him. Lilia Baranovskaya was fairly hard-nosed. They’d met only once, during which he’d gotten the feeling he’d somehow disappointed her. She ordered from him a couple of times a year. The fact that she’d gone out of her way to recommend him was a pleasant surprise.

He changed the subject, indulging his own curiosity. “Were you glamoured when you came in?”

He looked a little apologetic. “Yes. Sorry about that, it’s a bad habit of mine. It makes me kind of unnoticeable. Gives me a sense of security, knowing that no one’s watching.”

“It’s okay, it just makes more sense,” Yuuri reassured him. “I’d probably do it, if I could. But, anyway, tell me about your glamours.”

“Well. Most people want something to help with romance. Like a love potion, almost —  they want to be irresistible.”

Yuuri nodded. “I can understand that.”

Victor cast a long glance out the window. “Yeah, I get it but...it would always feel kind of fake, right?”

“Maybe. It would depend on the people involved, I guess,” Yuuri answered thoughtfully. It was an interesting quandary.

He tipped his head to one side, considering. “Hm.”

Yuuri found something else to say before the moment could drag awkwardly. “How’s the tea?”

“Great, actually. It tastes amazing.” Victor took another sip. “My nose feels a bit clearer, I think.”

“Okay, good,” Yuuri responded with a smile. Making people feel better —  that was what made his job rewarding, especially when it came with the bonus pride of impressing  _ Victor Nikiforov. _

They finished their cups in a peaceful silence, watching the world go by through the ample windows.

“That was great,” Victor said as he drained the last drops. “Can I take a packet?”

“Sure, sure,” Yuuri replied as he got to his feet. “Just give me a second.”

Yuuri fetched a packet —  the same luminous shade of green —  and delivered it straight into Victor’s hands. “If you need any more…”

Victor grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the slight awkwardness. I wrote this ages ago, then completely forgot to proof-read and edit until I realised that it needed to be posted today.


End file.
